


2,920 Days

by RobertDowneyAWESOME



Series: To Need And To Want [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Anal Sex, Anonymous Sex, Canon Compliant, Dirty Talk, Fuck Ian Gallagher, Humiliation, M/M, Moving On, Post 6×01, Slut Shaming, praise kink?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 18:11:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7584712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobertDowneyAWESOME/pseuds/RobertDowneyAWESOME





	2,920 Days

2,920 days. 

2,920 days since he put on this fucking orange jumpsuit.

2,910 days since he tattooed Ian Galagher on his chest.

2,905 days since he saw Ian Gallagher for the last time.

2,100 days since he saw Svetlana and Yevgeny.

2,100 days since someone called or visited.

Mickey scratched his beard for the last time, the packaged razor in his hand making him twitchy and feeling that familiar crawl across his skin. The one that brought overwhelming darkness to his dreams and tainted them for as long as those eight years had lasted, or more accurately, since Ian Gallagher looked him in his face and told him he didn't want him anymore. Suddenly, that clenching feeling, that fucking feeling that made him feel as though he was choking on something came back and he huddled back into the thick winter coat that he'd been wearing when he was arrested.

He threw the item in the basket with other toiletries and a couple packs of cigarettes. 

A pack of smokes and half a bottle of some cheap liquir later, Mickey pressed against the wall with a nameless man slamming his cock into his hole. Mickey stayed silent for the most part, minus some deep grunting and a particularly long whimper when the man had breached his virgin tight hole. Eight years and a constant feeling that you were about to be shanked will do that to you. 

Mickey's hands tore at the alley wall in front of him leaving dirt under his already dirty nails. The man above him didn't seem to care when he pressed against Mickey's back in the middle of the store whispering about how sexy his ass looked which lead to a meeting behind the store. Mickey gasped and left streaks of cum against the wall.

The man behind chuckled and breathed out, "Did you just cum without touching yourself?"

"Can you just shut the fuck up and finish," He growled slipping back into his South side aggressive drawl in a matter of seconds. The man snorted and tightened the grip he had on one hip causing him to grunt and then gasp when a big hand connected with his ass leaving a large red print.

"I'm not the one being fucked like some bitch in a alley way. Watch your mouth." He snarled the command and seem to force himself in harder. The hand came down three more times until Mickey's head hit the wall in front of him and despite having came just moments before was damn near rock hard. 

"Again. Again, please I have to." Mickey gasped thrusting his hips backwards. In the morning he'd regret this and hate himself for the way he acted when he had a dick up his ass. Compliant and weak.

And then the man was pulling out and leaving Mickey empty in a way that made him arch his back and let out a soft wail. He turned around and whined his desperation and displeasure but before he could open his mouth wet cum hit his hole. Mickey hissed but kept his ass out not daring to move another inch. He knew what this was, a marking of territory.

"The only way you're going to come now is if you turn around and beat your dick for me." The man growled in Mickey's ear sending a shiver down his spine. Ian had only spoken to him like this a couple of times before. 

Mickey turned around and shrugged his pants down until they were around his ankles to give the man a better view.

"Small fucker aren't you." Mickey blushed but kept his head down and began to fondle himself the degrading words spurring him on and keeping him leaking into his hand. "No wonder you're so good at taking it up the ass, you're practically made for it. No one's going to want to take that toothpick you call a dick." 

In reality Mickey was about an inch shorter than average but the words still brought tears to his eyes and kept his toes curled in his boots. He gasped and bucked into his hands leaving cum on them, he aimed to wipe the mess on the wall but the man stepped closer like a warning. Mickey, still refusing to look him in the eye, brought the hands to his mouth and began to lick it off not even cringing at the act.

The man crowded his space and dragged his tongue from the corner of Mickey's mouth to the side his ear.

"Good boy."

Several minutes after the man left, Mickey pulled his sweatpants back up and walked away towards a motel with a bag of groceries in his hand, a card in his pocket with a name and number, and a confusing mixture of shame and pride that shouldn't have been possible.


End file.
